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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369440">New Beginnings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/larklemon/pseuds/larklemon'>larklemon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Drarry, F/M, Forgiveness, Future Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Healer Harry Potter, M/M, One Shot, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Redemption, This is a relationship setup, this is a self indulgent fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:09:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/larklemon/pseuds/larklemon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a one shot that was meant to be much shorter. It's a set up to Harry and Draco, and I might write more fics based on this universe in the future if people are intrested. </p>
<p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” said Harry, exhaustion clear in his voice. He was covered in dirt and blood, the circles under his eyes prominent. He didn’t look like a man who had just saved the wizarding world. He just looked tired.<br/>“It’s alright,” Draco replied, trying to hide the fear in his voice. Harry heard it anyways. <br/>“I’m not here to fight you, Draco. I saw you make the choice not to cross the field when everyone thought I was dead. It was brave of you.” Draco took a shaky breath. Of all the things he thought Harry would say, that hadn’t been it. “I’m here to see if you’re ok.” Draco’s eyes snapped to Harry’s, eyes wide with disbelief. <br/>“What’s that supposed to mean, Potter?” he said, not having the energy to put the usual amount of venom in his last name. It felt childish now, to hold on to some schoolboy grudge when they had just fought a war together.<br/>“Your parents. I saw them… I just wanted to see if you need anything.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>New Beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry woke with a start, the last flashes of his nightmares disappearing as reality settled in. He sighed. The war had ended only a few months ago, but the faces of the dead were just as clear as they were in the Great Hall. Hermione and Ron suffered the same nightmares, but Harry’s were always made worse with the heavy feeling of guilt that weighed on his shoulders. He knew it was impractical to blame himself for every single death - he wasn’t stupid. But blame himself he did, as hard as he tried not to. Running his hand over his face, he cast </span>
  <em>
    <span>tempus. </span>
  </em>
  <span>4:38 AM. Roughly five hours of sleep. Groaning, he stood up. He knew there was no way he would be able to sleep now, so he might as well start his day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the Battle of Hogwarts, there had been some major shifts. First of all, the government was in shambles. Far too many employees were traitors, and even more of them had fled the country. It was currently standing on its last legs and had the potential to crumble at any moment. Kinsley Shaklebolt was Minister of Magic now, and it was a good fit. He had been working night and day to root out all traces of unloyalty, deceit, and idiocy. By his side was Hermione, who was quickly rising through the ranks. Her being an accomplished war hero helped, but her ability to contemplate dozens of scenarios at once before deciding on a course of action was taking her further. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron had decided not to become an Auror, as had Harry. Both felt too much fighting and death had already occurred in their lives, and they weren’t interested in adding to it. He instead was helping George survive the loss of his twin. The two had become inseparable, and Harry thought the only reason George got out of bed most mornings was because Ron was there waiting for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All three of them helped with the rebuild whenever possible, but it was still difficult being there. Too many memories of dead bodies around every corner, too many wands still lying where they had been dropped. Most of the effort to rebuild Hogwarts was coming from the witches and wizards of Great Britain, those who had been lucky enough to avoid picking a side and the war in general. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry shuffled to his kitchen, where Kreacher was already up and making breakfast. After the war, his and Harry’s relationship had greatly improved. There was a mutual understanding now, one of respect for each other. Kreacher had been the one to rally the Hogwarts house-elves and was now missing the tip of his left ear. A stray </span>
  <em>
    <span>sectemsempra </span>
  </em>
  <span>curse had seen to that. “Good morning, Kreacher,” Harry mumbled, stumbling slightly as he made his way to the cup of coffee waiting for him. Kreacher didn’t respond, merely nodded his head in acknowledgment before placing a plate of eggs and toast before him. He snapped his fingers and the dishes were washing themselves and Kreacher was gone. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the moody elf. Mutual respect didn’t make the house-elf a particularly good conversationalist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ate quickly, wanting to finish so he could squeeze in some studying before heading to St. Mungos. Once he had realized he didn’t want to hurt people but instead heal them, he had gone and spoken to the head of the magical hospital. His schooling had obviously been interrupted, and she didn’t want to let him in solely because he was the Boy-Who-Lived. She had given him four months to catch up and pass the required tests to join the Healers program, and Harry wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass him by. Putting his dishes in the sink and refilling his coffee, Harry headed to the library. He and Kreacher had spent a solid two days cleaning the Black ancestral home from top to bottom and it showed. Kreacher had also decided that it was time for Mrs. Walburga to come off the wall. It had taken both of them, but in the end, she had safely been settled in the attic, where Kreacher still visited her from time to time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The library was one of his favorite places in the whole house. Hermione had snorted when he had told her, and Ron had merely rolled his eyes. It had a wall of floor to ceiling windows, heavy curtains hanging between the window seats. The bookshelves were packed and made the whole room smell like the old library he had gone to as a kid to escape Dudley. Two of the most comfortable chairs Harry had ever sat on were arranged by the fireplace, a small coffee table covered in quills, parchment, and ink sitting between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the far corner, away from the entranceway and its line of sight, sat a large mahogany desk. It was covered in various medical and potion textbooks, sticky notes, and parchment. Three broken pencils lay on the floor underneath, forgotten to all but the mothballs. Here was Harry’s safe space, where he could forget the world behind him and the uncertainty of the future ahead. It was one of the best places he found he could study, with Kreacher bringing him new tea every hour or so to keep him hydrated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a soft grunt, Harry sat down in the large chair before the desk. Today he was studying potions and the application of them in the case of a burn. Very much a page turner. With a yawn, he cracked open the first of many.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Today was very much not Harry’s day. He had fallen asleep on his books, and in turn, had been late to work. While he wasn’t allowed to join the Healer’s program yet, he did get to shadow a Healer every other day. Harry usually enjoyed it. The fast paced environment, the snap decisions, the helping people. Everything he loved. Today, however, Healer Micheals, who he usually shadowed, had taken a sick day. This left Harry with Healer Jones, a leery old man who had tried to cope a feel six different times. Each time, Harry had politely declined and slid smoothly out of his grasp. This Harry could handle. It wasn’t ideal to be sure, but Harry was more than used to avoiding unwanted attention from fans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment his day turned, however, was when one Blaise Zabini walked into the emergency department, projectile vomited on Harry, turned an odd shade of yellow, and passed out. Harry was now covered in pink, smelly throw-up, and couldn’t yet clean it off until someone collected a sample. His day was officially ruined. It was made slightly worse when Elise saw him. She was a trauma nurse and Harry’s only real friend outside Ron and Hermione. He had hoped to avoid her, but of course, word that Harry Potter was covered in vomit spread quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Merlin, Harry,” she giggled, not even trying to hide her smile, “what on earth are you getting into now?” Harry couldn’t even respond because his mouth was also covered in throw up. He shot her a dirty look, but this only made her laughing grow louder. Soon she was clutching her belly, tears rolling down her face as she took in the sight of her friend before her. His already unruly hair was now stuck up at odd angles and seemed to be stuck in place, dry vomit holding it there. Someone had kindly wiped off Harry’s glasses, but his face and most of his chest remained covered. She couldn’t help but grab her camera and snap a photo, already knowing it would be her Christmas card cover this year. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, someone from the Potions lab came up to take a sample of the mess. Blaise had been placed in stasis, for now, the Healers not wanting to do anything until they were sure what it was that had caused him to be so sick in the first place. Harry couldn’t quite see who it was that was taking the sample, but he did notice the abrupt mood shift when they arrived. “All right, Potter,” said a familiar voice, “you can clean up now.” Harry waved his wand, casting the most basic cleaning spell that Healers use. When he could, he looked to his left where the man stood, already knowing who would be standing there when he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco Fucking Malfoy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the dust had settled after the Battle, Draco had fallen to his knees. Not crossing the field to join his parents had been the hardest choice he had ever made. Every fiber in his being had screamed at him, straining to just take that first step. But he resisted. He still remembered the flames, the heat of the fyiendfire nipping at his heels. He also remembered Harry’s hand in his, wrapping his arms around him as they flew out of the Room of Requirement. He might not believe Harry could beat Voldemort, but he would fight for the man who saved his life when he didn’t have to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had watched, frozen, as both his mother and father were struck down. Neither one had gotten up. Tears now dripped down his face and off his nose, making small round circles in the dirt below him. He sprang suddenly to his feet, arm raised, and wand trembling. Harry Potter stood before him, hands up and wand in holster. Draco slowly lowered his arm, but kept it at the ready. He didn’t think Harry would try anything, but better safe than sorry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” said Harry, exhaustion clear in his voice. He was covered in dirt and blood, the circles under his eyes prominent. He didn’t look like a man who had just saved the wizarding world. He just looked tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Draco replied, trying to hide the fear in his voice. Harry heard it anyways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not here to fight you, Draco. I saw you make the choice not to cross the field when everyone thought I was dead. It was brave of you.” Draco took a shaky breath. Of all the things he thought Harry would say, that hadn’t been it. “I’m here to see if you’re ok.” Draco’s eyes snapped to Harry’s, eyes wide with disbelief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean, Potter?” he said, not having the energy to put the usual amount of venom in his last name. It felt childish now, to hold on to some schoolboy grudge when they had just fought a war together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your parents. I saw them… I just wanted to see if you need anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco bit his lip. He had changed, during his time with Voldemort in his house. He no longer felt better than, like he was entitled just because both his parents were magic. But his mistakes were carved into his arm, ready to be displayed to the world. He took a deep breath, aware of Potters’ eyes on him. Fingers trembling, he returned his wand to his holster before slowly rolling up the sleeve of his left arm. He heard Potter’s breath catch, and that alone almost made him stop. But he forged on, forcing himself to reveal his biggest regret to the Hero of the Light. “I didn’t want it, you know,” began Draco, as though he was discussing the next quidditch match. “I fought and screamed and begged them not to. But when he put a wand to my mother’s head, it was all over.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry swallowed. Here it was, the proof that he had been right all along, that Draco was a death eater. But not a single part of him was happy that he was. “What can I do?” he said softly, taking a step closer. Draco couldn’t help but flinch but stayed where he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you - is there - can you get rid of it?” Draco spoke so fast Harry nearly missed it altogether. He watched as Draco closed his eyes, body tensing as he prepared for rejection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can try.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. All the air he had escaped, and with a pained gasp, he bent over.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Draco?” Draco let out a soft laugh before looking at Potter, eyes filled with tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You used my name,” was all he managed to say before another laugh escaped him. Harry watched him, slightly concerned, before letting out a small chuckle himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess I did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both boys stood for a moment, an occasional snort or chuckle escaping from one of them. But the moment soon passed, and Harry once again focused on Draco’s request. Slowly, as not to startle Draco, he pulled the Elder Wand from the waistband of his pants. “Is that…?” Asked Draco.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You took the most powerful wand in all of existence, and put it in your pants?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah,” he sighed, “I guess I did.” Draco merely nodded, trying hard to contain his grin. “Alright,” said Harry, suddenly all business. “I make no promises this will work, alright? So don’t get your hopes up.” Draco nodded again, holding his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry gently reached for Draco’s forearm, bringing it close to his lips. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wake up,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he hissed, missing the way Draco’s eyes widened. He paused a moment, and just as he was about to try again, the snake stirred. Both boys jerked away in surprise, shocked that it had worked. Harry licked his lips, brow furrowed in concentration. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>How do I remove this dark magic from the skin in which it is burrowed?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The snake on Draco’s forearm flicked back and forth for a moment before glowing slightly. Draco suddenly stood up straight, his normally grey eyes turning green. A soft hiss fell from his lips, and it took all of Harry’s willpower not to react. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You have the powerful wand, the one so many have hunted for. Only its magic is powerful enough to begin to try.” </span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry frowned slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What else do I need to try?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You must be strong and pure of Light. Press the wand to the skin, and say what comes most natural to you. Fate will decide the rest.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Harry couldn’t help but groan a little. He was confident in his magic, he could feel that it had gotten even stronger since killing the Horcrux and Voldemort. But a riddle for something so important was frustrating. He opened his mouth to ask another question when the light in Draco’s eyes faded back to grey, and the tattoo stopped moving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” Harry let go of Draco’s forearm and rubbed his forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s sit,” he said, gesturing to the ground. Once they sat, Harry quickly caught Draco up on what had happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you have to perform a spell you don’t know with the most powerful wand in the world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds easy enough.” Harry couldn’t help but snort, a wry smile on his face. “Let’s do it.” Harry looked at Draco, the question still on his lips when Draco waved him off. “You’ve given me hope that it’s possible I won’t have to live with this… thing on my arm for the rest of my life. I’m sure.” Harry nodded, knowing how it felt to have a permanent mark that people judged you for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope this doesn’t hurt.” With that, Harry took the tip of the elder wand and pressed it to the center of the mark. Glancing at Draco one last time, he looked back down and said the first thing that came to mind. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The receiver of this mark was unwilling, unwanting, and undeserving of the pain and suffering that accompanies it. Here is a good man, a redeemable man, a strong wizard. I command the dark magic that was forced upon him to dissipate and scatter, never able to form a dark bond again.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>As soon as Harry stopped speaking, the tattoo began to move. It started small, in the corner, but soon the entire mark was swirling this way and that, like an angry swarm of bee’s attempting to escape. Harry watched it for a moment before looking at Draco. “I think it needs a way out.” Draco nodded, his face grim and in pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Harry took his wand and muttered “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Diffindo.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>A small cut, no bigger than an inch, appeared. With a loud hiss, the magic quickly flew through the cut, causing Draco to cry out in pain. With that, the dark mark was gone, a small cut all left as the only proof of what happened. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Episkey,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>said Harry, drawing his wand once more over Draco’s arm. All that remained was a small river of blood that Harry gently wiped away with his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you did it,” Draco whispered in awe. “I can’t believe it’s gone.” Harry grinned, far bigger than he had in the past year. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe it either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Harry looked at Draco, who was now clutching his forearm and openly crying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” he said gently, laying his hand over Draco’s. “You didn’t need that reminder.” Draco nodded, sniffling. Harry gave his arm one last look before pushing himself to his feet. “I need to be getting back,” he said awkwardly, gripping the back of his neck. Draco looked up in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, of course. Thank you again.” Harry smiled one last time and nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turned to leave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he called, looking back at the huddled form of Draco Malfoy. “Good luck.” With that, he turned and slowly walked back towards the castle, refusing to acknowledge how nice Draco’s hand felt in his, or the butterflies in his stomach. He heard Ron and Hermione before he saw them, calling his name. He picked up the pace, and the three ran to each other, clutching one another as though it was the last time they would see each other. A camera shutter flashed, and they looked up. There stood Dennis Creevy, tears rolling down his cheeks as he clutched his dead brother’s camera. He shuffled forward, eyes glassy as he handed them the photo. All four watched the loop of them crashing into one another before pulling apart and looking at the camera. Blood, dirt, and tear tracks covered their faces, clothes hanging off their thin forms, hair greasy and knotted. But the joy was visible, relief that the war was over and they had survived. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” whispered Hermione, clutching the photo to her chest. Dennis nodded mutely before turning and slowly heading back to the castle. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood there, watching as the sun rose on a new age.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry couldn’t help but grin. Here was Draco Malfoy, looking far different than the broken wizard he had left sitting on the battlefield. His hair was cut short, making his jawline seem sharper. His grey eyes now sat behind a soft pair of glasses, and his head was held high despite the whispers swirling around him. “Draco, what a pleasant surprise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco looked briefly startled, as though he had expected Harry to be angry he was there. “Hello, Potter. When I heard it was you who had been covered in pink vomit, I knew I would have to come and investigate.” Harry laughed, much to the shock of everyone not so subtly listening in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really would love to catch up, Draco. Would you get lunch with me soon? I can owl you for more details.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Draco’s heart stopped. He struggled to keep his face calm, while inside his stomach was now in his throat. “Yes, Potter, I’ll meet you for lunch some time.” Harry grinned and reached a hand out to Draco. Draco’s heart stopped again. Was he seriously willing to shake his hand in front of the entire hospital? He realized he had paused a moment too long when Harry’s grin faded a bit and his hand began to drop. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he reached out and firmly grasped Harry’s hand. “See you around, Potter.” With that, he turned on his heel and left, trying to project confidence he didn’t have.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry watched as he left, a grin still on his face. Elise snapped her fingers in front of her face, shock still obvious on her face. Around them, mutters were growing louder and people were now openly staring. While Draco had gone before the Wizengamot, his lack of the Dark Mark and the fact that he changed sides during the battle meant he only had to pay some reparations in place of his father. That didn’t stop the rumor mill of course. Added to that everyone knew of the infamous schoolboy rivalry between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, and it was no wonder the hospital was abuzz.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, what was all that?” She asked, gesturing to the receding form of Draco. “Since when are you all chummy with Draco Malfoy?” She sneered slightly, and Harry looked at her, a small frown on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a lot nicer then people think, you know. He lost people too. He also fought for our side, Elise. And there isn’t a Dark Mark on his arm. Why are you being so weird about this?” He shook his head before walking off to find Healer Jones, who had disappeared once Blaise had arrived. Elise watched as he walked off, a seed of shame growing in her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry stepped out his floo, groaning as he threw his robes on the floor. He stared at them for a moment before sighing and picking them up. He felt kind of bad for snapping at Elise, but he was annoyed that so many people still didn’t like Draco, or trust him. He slowly made his way upstairs and to his bedroom before falling face-first on his mattress. His day hadn’t improved after the pink vomit incident, as Healer Jones had gotten even more handsy. Harry knew he could report it, but he didn’t want to get the old man fired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The analysis had come back from the Potions Department on the vomit, and apparently, Blaise had tried some highly experimental sleep potion. It had caused an allergic reaction, along with attempting to destroy his internal organs. While they had managed to reverse the effects of the potion, they still couldn’t wake him up. There was no next of kin listed, and his emergency contact was empty. Until he woke up, there wasn’t anything they could do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry rolled on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He really needed to shower, as he was having Ron and Hermione over for dinner. But every part of his body wanted him to stay exactly where he was. After giving himself a moment, he sat up and felt his back pop. Feeling slightly better, he headed to the bathroom. Pausing in front of the mirror, he looked at himself for what felt like the first time since the war ended. His hair was getting longer, still as untamed and wild as ever. He was slowly gaining back the weight he had lost during his year on the run and was making sure to exercise to keep up his muscle mass. The bags under his eyes were still prominent, his skin pale. Nothing extraordinary. Shaking himself loose from his thoughts, he turned the shower up as hot as it would go and stepped in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His floo chimed to let him know Ron and Hermione were coming through just as he set the wine on the table. He had decided to make dinner himself tonight, which hadn’t made Kreacher the happiest elf in the world. He didn’t have time most days to cook, and even if he did, he probably still wouldn’t. Occasionally taking over the kitchen wasn’t enough to trigger bad memories, but he still had the odd flashback to the Dursley’s now and then. Snapping back to the present, he watched as his two best friends climbed out of the floo, dusting themselves off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry!” Called Hermione, beaming. Her hair was thrown into a haphazard bun, small curls framing her face. She, like Harry, was still rather on the thin side, but no longer had a deathly pallor about her. Ron had always been skinny, so it had been less noticeable with him. He worked out with Harry sometimes, so he was working on becoming lean with muscle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, guys. I made dinner tonight, and I have a bottle of wine with our names on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mate, that is the best news I’ve heard all week,” Ron said, clapping Harry on the shoulder he walked past him. Harry laughed and followed him into the dining room. On the table was a roast chicken in a bed of roasted vegetables and a salad, places set, and wine at the ready. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess who I ran into today,” said Harry as he served himself. Both Hermione and Ron looked up, interest clear on their faces. “Draco Malfoy.” Hermione’s eyebrows raised as she took a sip of wine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did that go?” She asked, curiosity seeping into her voice. Harry had of course told them what had happened on the battlefield after Voldemort fell, and all three had sent in letters for Dracos defense during his Wizengamot trial. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I was covered in pink vomit at the time, so not as great as I would have hoped.” Ron snorted, unable to keep it in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you telling me that the guy you totally have a crush on -don’t even try to argue, mate- saw you for the first time since the end of the war, and you were covered in pink vomit?” Even Hermione was sniggering now, hand covering her mouth as though she could keep it in. Harry groaned, his head hitting the table with a dull thud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he groaned miserably. Both his friends were full-on laughing now, and Harry couldn’t help but join in. It felt good to be laughing at something so stupid together. Harry described everything else that had happened, including snapping at Elise. Both Ron and Hermione listened attentively, murmuring in agreement in all the right places. Harry sat back once he was done, belly full, and plate empty. He gave the two a moment to mull things over before gesturing for them to speak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want this to be a friendship, or something more?” Asked Hermione, fixing him with her steady gaze. Harry didn’t even have to think about it before responding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think starting it as a friendship is probably a good idea since I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. But you guys know how much I like him. For Merlin’s sake, I was completely obsessed with him my last year at Hogwarts.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, ‘cause you weren’t at all obsessed any other year at Hogwarts,” Ron muttered, smirking. Harry elected to ignore him if only to avoid how right he was.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think I was too harsh with Elise though?” Harry said, brow furrowed. Ron and Hermione looked at each other for a moment before turning back to Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think so. People will take a while to let go of their prejudices, but if she saw how you interacted with him, she knew that it couldn’t end well with her questioning it. Just don’t hold it against her for too long - I’m sure she already feels bad about it as it is.” Harry nodded as Hermione spoke, already writing a letter to Elise in his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, guys. Now, tell me what’s happening in your lives.” Harry settled back in his chair as Hermione launched into a rant about the newest batch of Aurors, a small grin on his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a few days before Harry received a reply to his letter to Draco. He had written it after Hermione and Ron left and definitely hadn’t been anxiously watching the post ever since. He had ended up not writing a letter to Elise, and instead had gotten lunch with her the next day. Things had been a little tense, but she had apologized for making assumptions and the tension eased between the two of them. The rumor mill was still swirling, but Harry ignored it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I had been another early morning for him, and he was buried so deep in his books he almost missed the tapping of the owl on the library window. He couldn’t help the butterflies that leaped into his throat when he saw the majestic black owl that was waiting for him. Only Draco Malfoy could have an owl so distinct. He fed the owl a treat before untying the letter from his leg, but the bird merely tilted his head and looked at him with an intense gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I bet you are waiting for a reply, aren't you?” He asked quietly, unrolling the letter as he walked back to his desk. Smoothing out the parchment, he began to read.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Potter, </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I must say I was quite surprised to receive your letter. While you extended the </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>invitation for lunch, I was half expecting you to never follow through. I work most </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>days, but I am free Saturdays and Tuesdays. Let me know which works better for you. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely, Draco Malfoy</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at the letter. Draco’s nervousness was obvious, and it saddened him to think that Draco had assumed his invitation to be false. It made a sad sort of sense, however, as he didn’t think many people were kind to Draco these days. He thought for a moment before penning a quick response.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Draco, </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m free this Saturday if that works for you. Say at one o’clock? I know a good muggle </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>cafe not too far from St. Mungos where we won’t have to worry about prying eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours, Harry</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sealing it with a wave of his wand, he walked back to where Draco’s owl was patiently waiting for him. Without prompting, he stuck out his leg and Harry attached the letter. After allowing Harry to feed him one more treat, he turned and swooped back out the window, his receding form still visible after a minute or two. Harry stood at the window, gazing after him long after he disappeared.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry couldn’t recall a time he felt as nervous as he did now. He had changed at least a dozen times, and clothes were now strewn across his room. Kreacher had wandered by three times already, muttering about messy wizards and clean clothes. He knew why he was so nervous of course, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like a bit of an idiot. As much as he tried to ignore it, he wanted to impress Draco. And even though he was sure Draco saw this as nothing more than a lunch, he wished it was something more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry?” A voice called, and a second later his floo chimed to let him know someone had stepped through. Harry wasn’t concerned, as only a few people had access to his floo. He heard the soft patter of feet coming down the hallway and turned just in time to see Luna step into the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Luna. How are you?” He said, trying in vain to ignore the mess he knew surrounded him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I felt that the dabberblimps in the house were agitated, so I came over to investigate.” She said it matter of factly, her melodic voice certain. Harry blinked at her for a moment before slowly nodding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for coming to check on the… dabberblimps. I appreciate it.” Harry had learned long ago that it was far easier to go along with what Luna said, as it often ended up helping in some odd way later on. He watched as she took in the room behind him, and blushed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nervous to meet with Draco?” Harry’s eyes widened slightly before he sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know its stupid, but I want him to think I look nice,” he mumbled. Luna merely smiled serenely and stepped closer to Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a secret Harry,” she whispered, leaning in a little closer, hands clasped behind her back. “He already likes you. You don’t have to worry that an outfit is going to change that.” Harry looked at her, biting his lip. Luna was somehow never wrong and Harry never wanted to believe her as much as he did at this moment. “Now,” she said clapping her hands, making Harry startle. “Let’s get you dressed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ten minutes later, Harry was standing in front of his bathroom mirror, Luna having left moments before. Her departing words were still ringing in Harry’s ears. “Just be yourself.” How did he do that? Most days he wasn’t even sure who he was. The war had been almost half his life. All he knew was fighting and struggle. Even when he had been at the Dursley’s that had held true. And now he lived alone in a big house, and he and his best friends were separated for the first time since they had met. All his mentor figures were dead, leaving him alone, fighting to keep his head above water. What if Draco didn’t like who he turned out to be? Groaning, he ran a hand over his face. Trust him to have an existential crisis moments before he was supposed to meet up with Draco. Giving himself one more look in the mirror, he hoped his simple jeans and button-up was appropriate. Luna had attempted to tame his hair, but it had remained a stubborn mess atop his head. Taking a deep breath, he left the bathroom. His room was now spotless, and he whispered a thank you to Kreacher. Double checking he had his wand, he walked out the front door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry was late. He hadn’t meant to be, but apparently his little freakout in the bathroom had cost him some precious minutes. And now he was hurrying down the sidewalk, muttering apologies to muggles as he rushed past them. He saw Draco before Draco saw him, so he had a moment to admire the man. He was wearing a muggle suit and wearing it well. He looked as comfortable in it as he did in wizarding robes, and Harry couldn’t help the way his heart leaped at the sight. Draco finally looked up as Harry neared the table, an involuntary grin spreading across his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I almost thought you weren’t coming,” he said, raising a delicate eyebrow. Harry huffed out a laugh and dropped into the seat across from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, I left a little later then I meant to. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” Draco’s face flushed and he cleared his throat, eyes flitting away from Harry’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I may have gotten here a bit early,” he admitted, still not meeting Harry’s gaze. Harry smiled, unable to stop himself from taking in all the details. Draco’s delicate cheekbones, carefully styled hair, beautiful grey eyes. His posture was confident, but Harry could see his hands twisting nervously under the table. Looking at the man across the table from him, Harry made a split-second decision. Mustering all the Gryfindor courage he could he reached across the table and laid his hand, palm up, on the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Draco,” he said, and something about his voice made Dracos eyes snap to his. He glanced at Harry’s hand on the table and his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. “If I’m reading any of this wrong, please let me know. But when I asked you out to lunch with me, part of me desperately wanted it to be a date. I know we haven’t seen one another since the battle, and we are different people than we were in school. Are you interested in this being more than a friendship?” Harry held his breath once he finished, never moving his hand. Both wizards sat frozen. Draco’s breathing had sped up slightly, and his eyes were wide. Just as Harry was about to withdraw his hand, Draco moved. Slowly, as though he was afraid Harry would snatch his hand away and say it was all a joke. His hand was shaking, but he gently laid his hand in Harry’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he whispered, looking at their clasped hands on the table before them. “I would very much like to be more than friends.” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand, unable to keep the beaming smile off his face. Draco slowly squeezed back, a small smile appearing in return. </span>
</p>
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